Blunt
by casssadaga
Summary: Jean Kirschtein doesn't need any help. He has his goals, he has his ambitions, he knows what he wants, and what he wants certainly doesn't include any stupid girls getting overly involved in his life where he doesn't need them...even if this one does smell like fresh-cut grass...and that smile...but these things don't matter. Nope. Not one bit. Jean/Sasha, Rating subject to change.


**Hi all! **

So, I'd been promising a new JeanSasha story for a while - don't worry, I'm still going to update Handwritten, so please don't panic! This one is, however, set in the actual, original Shingeki no Kyojin/Attack on Titan universe, and I honestly only have a stretch of an idea where I'm going to go with it, so be patient with me. Hope you all enjoy it!

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**Disclaimer:** Attack on Titan/Shingeki no Kyojin is the sole intellectual property of Hajime Isayama.

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Today had been particularly unpleasant – that much was certain. Jean Kirschtein grimaced as his ankle bent painfully in an unnatural position, reminding him of the mistakes he'd made during their latest open-field 'mission'. No time was supposed to be enjoyable during their training he mused, but would it kill them to just give the squad an easy day? A Sunday off once in a while? They had been attending moderated courses on Titan/human history, Titan/human anatomy, equipment and gear break down, as well as a few meager classes on geography, politics, problem solving and math – however, these courses had been paused a few weeks ago in favor of even more physical training sessions. The trainees were lucky if they even got a water break, and you could forget about lunch altogether; it wasn't like you could break naturally in the middle of a Titan battle, especially if it was a situation similar to what had happened in Wall Maria.

'It's not like we're getting any better,' he bemoaned to himself, 'some days I think even _I_ am getting worse.' Jean glanced at his swollen leg and felt his ears begin to burn from the embarrassing reminder.

Everyone was just tired, that was all there was to it. Between staying up late nursing wounds and waking up at the ass crack of dawn to fight over shower heads before all of the hot water ran scarce, they were becoming run down – ragged, even.

'Things'll be different once I graduate and qualify,' Jean breathed out heavily, sitting on the outside steps that led towards his dormitory porch, 'all of this will be worth it in the end when I'm comfortably living within the inner walls and on my ass all day.'

The lit torches were flickering against the pitch black-blue of the sky, creating an almost comforting, warm glow. The sky itself was clear – there had been a few clouds gathering, particularly at dusk, but no rain to speak of since they began training several months ago. Not much had changed in terms of weather, but much had changed in terms of bonds and alliances – they had all begun to warm up to each other now; knew their weaknesses and strengths, played against them or played with them. Naturally, amongst all of this, they had become much more aware of who was reliable and who was less than satisfactory in terms of combat.

Jean heard the thud of feet against compact dirt a few meters off or so, and sighed. If it wasn't a titan, there was no doubt in his mind that it was just whom it was, running a final lap.

Sasha Braus, as skillful as she was determined, was also rather simple minded and had pockets of social retardation – to put it gently. The girl was averaging about two to three punishments a week, the majority of them being either 'run until you drop' or 'sharpen blades until your fingers crack'. They had put her on kitchen duty once – a dire mistake, considering they returned to find several bread loaves, as well as a can opener (god forbid they know the reason) missing from the final count. There was, however, one thing you could commend the girl on – she was stubborn, and she was not, in any way, weak-willed.

"Jean!" she panted, fast approaching him, her stride wobbling greatly – an easy sign of over-exhaustion, "Jean!"

Jean looked over at her. They interacted about the same that everyone else interacted – friendly during meals, angrily yelling during training drills, helping each other out when they fell or fucked up here and there, but she was much closer with Connie and Marco than she was with him.

Sasha finally staggered over to where he was sitting, her face ruddy and flushed from running. Jean wondered if she really had been keeping such a strong stride for the entirety of her punishment – she had started well into the heat of the day and it way passed sundown – surely she WALKED some of it?

"Jean," she began again, collapsing into a sweaty mess before him, "Jean…do you…have any water?" each word seemed to be punctuated by a long, exasperated breath, and Jean noticed that there were thin, dry cracks creasing down her bottom lip. Dear God.

He groaned, and unbuckled the water pouch from his hip. Despite lacking time for a real water break between training, the squad members each carried one of these pouches for dire situations, but Jean was beginning to think it was only he who kept the damn thing full.

"Here," he handed the pouch to her and she chugged it greedily, "do you seriously ever get sick of being punished or do you just enjoy running around like a rat all day?"

Sasha answered his question by gulping more water down and eventually coughing up a storm. She handed the pouch back to Jean and turned to lay down on her back, sweat-matted hair fanning out behind her.

"Do you know what was for dinner tonight? I cannot believe I missed it again. Christa offered to save me some as she usually does , but I'm sure that Ymir had something to say about that," the girl was still breathing heavily, but she was kicking her legs and causing the dirt to puff up into thick clouds behind her boot heels.

"We had the same thing we have for dinner every night, Sasha." Jean liked the girl well enough, but he didn't feel like participating in small talk – not when he had an injury to tend to. You couldn't be trying to qualify for the military police with a bad ankle, and if it was fucked up for good, he could kiss any hopes and dreams he had of living within the central walls.

FUCK THAT.

He stood up, clenching his teeth through the pain as he turned to begin his ascent into the male bunks. It wasn't until he buckled from shifting his weight onto the ankle that Sasha noticed he had moved at all.

"Are you okay?" the girl turned back onto her stomach and pushed herself up to stand and walk over to where Jean, back on his ass, was attempting to muffle his cries while clutching his foot. Tears were welling in the creases of his eyes but it couldn't be helped – how had he walked all the way here on the blasted thing without it hurting this bad?

"No, I'm not okay," Jean hissed, "I fucked up my ankle today in practice, and it's killing me."

The girl looked like she was considering this information very carefully.

"Was it when you got knocked down by that decoy?" Sasha inquired, sitting herself down a stair below the boy.

Jean's ears burned again, and he could feel an embarrassed heat pooling deep in his gut. Ugh, fuck. Of course everyone had seen it – he had been going in for the kill and from out of nowhere, a wooden Titan decoy had been launched with a spring and thwacked him painfully into his ankle bone. Naturally, he fell to the ground and, naturally, he landed face-first. As if that wasn't enough, instructor Keith had come over and dove his boot into Jean's side, yelling something or other about taking a nap, not being aware enough of his surroundings – looking out for aberrations and all of that bullshit.

"Is it your ankle? Shall I have a look at it?" Before Jean could reply, Sasha had gently brought his left foot towards her lap and removed his boot as well as his single sock and any wrappings. Pushing up his pants leg over the swollen joint, Jean could see her eyes widen in the heavy glow of the torches surrounding them.

"Oh dear."

The majority of the swelling had gathered on the left side, on the outside of his leg. The skin was shiny and heavily bruised, more than likely from all of the pressure he had been putting on it, and Jean hissed when Sasha grazed it with her finger tips. On top of the pain, Jean was sure his foot smelled awful from being in his sweat-drenched boot all day. Dirt was creasing between his toes and the embarrassment worsened. Sasha would probably go back to the female dorms and indulge to all of the girls about his nasty hygiene and Mikasa would –

"AGH!" Jean screeched as Sasha probed the swollen flesh gently.

Sasha, in turn, grabbed Jean's water pouch and uncapped it, pouring what was left of the cold water onto the ankle and heel. Jean wasn't a mind reader, but he could tell what her 'diagnosis' would be. The cold water felt nice, but even before he could open his mouth, Sasha beat him to the punch.

"You are really going to have to go and get this checked out in the infirmary," she concluded, propping the heel up on her squatting knee, "Jean, I'm sorry, but…you'll have to stay off of your feet for a few days. I'm sure that Shadis will understand, plus – "

There were some heavy footsteps from inside of the bunks and a muffled voice called out angrily, interrupting Sasha,

"Shut up! People are trying to sleep in here!"

"Fuck off!" Jean yelled back, "It's not even that late yet!"

There was more rustling and the door flung open to reveal Eren Jaeger, hair tousled, clutching a pillow in his hand, "Shut the fuck up, Jean! It's been a long day, we're tired! Care about someone else other than yourself for once and – " Eren noticed Sasha in the middle of his tirade, clutching onto Jean's bruised ankle, smiling up at him. His voice dove down an octave. "Sasha, what are you doing here?"

"I just finished my last lap," the girl replied nonchalantly, "I saw Jean was hurt and decided to check out his leg."

UGH why, of all people, did she tell _Eren_ about his stupid injury?

"Oh," Eren's eyes widened, and he turned back to look at Jean, "are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Jean hissed, turning his eyes back onto Sasha. This was exactly what he had wanted to avoid, and now she was just dragging him like a lamb to the slaughter.

"I'm going to just carry him to the infirmary in the morning before we eat breakfast, he'll be fine!" Sasha waved Eren away, her smile beaming.

The boy, on the other hand, still had his focus on where Sasha was gripping Jean's heel, positioning it on the tops of her upper legs as she knelt into a more relaxed sitting position.

"Oh…kay…" Eren cocked an eyebrow and turned around, shutting the dormitory door behind him. They could hear his footsteps as he walked back to his bunk, a few voices rising, inquiring, and then eventual silence.

The world was quiet for about two beats before cicadas began to sing in the distance. It was then that Jean turned back around to Sasha, palpitating with fury, attempting to move his leg away from her poisoned grasp.

"Did you really have to tell fucking Jaeger that?!"

"You mean…the truth?" Her honeyed eyes gazed up at him in confusion, "Did I really have to tell him the truth?" The girl then dissolved into laughter, and Jean felt himself blushing even more. Whether or not it was from embarrassment, he couldn't tell, but at least she had let go of his foot.

"I'm going to bed," the boy began to pick up his discarded sock, wrappings, and boot, only to begin hobbling away with the naked limb suspended in air, "thank-you for your help."

After only a few hops though, his dramatic exit began to sink in and he realized how stupid he must look – arms spread-eagled and full of his stuff, attempting to balance himself on the bumpy terrain of dirt and grass. Jean continued to propel himself further, and it was only when he found a steadying hand circling around his midsection, and another pulling his right hand across their back that he realized Sasha had gotten up to help him. This was so mortifying. Jean couldn't stand it that he actually needed someone's help with something as trivial as walking. Sure, the injury had been painful and sure, he hadn't displayed quite the convincing argument that he could walk by himself, but that didn't mean that Sasha had to help him like this.

"Potato girl, I don't need your help," he scoffed, feeling her hold tighten, bunching the material of his jacket around his torso, "I really am okay. I can do this by myself, I – "

"Jean," the girl interrupted, "I'm terribly sorry to cut you off, but you were going the wrong way."

"What do you mean?" he barked. Where else should he be going? He was tired!

Sasha sighed, a smile still on her lips and Jean could see where natural colour had returned to her face. No longer ruddy in comparison, the girl looked like she hadn't even broken a sweat in the past few hours. She didn't even smell bad, in fact, he was close enough that he could smell something warmer and lighter on the girl – Jean couldn't place it. It wasn't floral, or overpowering; but it was something worth remembering in their proximity. Not only could he smell her skin, but Jean was close enough that he could even see a pale littering of freckles spread across the bridge of her nose. They weren't as visible as Ymir's were, but beneath the casting glow of torches he could slightly make out the shapes. Why was she smiling like that?

"You were heading towards the female dorms," Sasha pointed with her free hand towards the direction the young man was hobbling, "whereas the male dorms, are behind you in the opposite direction – you know, above those steps we were sitting by?"

"Oh." Right. The male dorms.

Sasha attempted to turn him around, her grip only tightening when Jean wavered. While the girl wasn't short in comparison to other trainees in their squad, she was still a few inches shorter than Jean was, even with the added height of her boots. Despite her rather solid figure, she must have struggled at least a little bit. The girl did just run around in the blazing heat all afternoon…

"Sasha, honestly, you don't have to help me, I can make it back on my own, I swear," this had gotten out of hand. Jean hadn't prepared himself for all of this commotion and it really was irritating.

"It's perfectly fine, I do not mind at all!" Her polite language was endearing in an odd, slightly unnecessary way…

"Fuck!" Jean lost his balance and before Sasha could steady him this time, he crashed into her side, causing the both of them to fall painfully on the ground. By the time the dust had settled, Jean could feel the nauseous pain welling in the pit of his stomach – he had landed with Sasha's left leg directly in between his own two, causing the bone of her hip – already fastened with straps and other hard buckles – to dig right. In. To. His. Junk.

Gasping for air and tears welling in the corners, Jean just gave up. This was it. This was the moment where, beyond everything that had happened, Jean just gave up for the night. How the hell had a simple walk to his bed turn into 20 Questions with the fucking potato girl and subsequently, him lying on top of her as her waist dug into his privates. The young man shifted and found himself lying on top of the girl still, but between her own legs.

Now, Jean was still young – he had only turned fifteen about five months ago, and had never, in his life, been in closer proximity to a female than he was right now. Sure, he had hugged girls before…his mother and his family. Maybe grabbed a hold of girls when they were playing tag or something silly like that. He had been kissed a few years prior, and had even held a girls hand once. Ever since puberty though, things had been much different. He was only getting used to this body right now, and wasn't exactly comfortable with the idea of it resting on top of someone else, especially in such a compromising position –

"J-Jean…" But she did feel really…good. In a strange way. In a strange teenage-boy-feeling-a-girl way.

"Jean."

She still smelled good, too. That was the most puzzling part of all of this – the girl supposedly had run a million laps and still smelled like something Jean would fill up his nostrils with if he could…and if that didn't sound so incredibly, awfully weird. Fuck.

"Jean!"

Finally, he looked back at the girl underneath him.

"What?!"

"May…may you please move? I'm sorry, but you're sort of crushing me…"

Jean huffed and rolled over, away from the girl and her body heat. A burning sensation, different from the embarrassment, was now gathering in the pit of his stomach and despite his slightly injured member, Jean could feel blood flowing and coursing so hard that his heart beat was erratic and pumping so loudly that he could hear it in his own ears.

"I-I'm sorry," Sasha began, sitting up and steadying herself. Was that a bit of a blush underneath her cheeks? "I hadn't meant to fall like that, I'm very sorry, let's hurry and get you to bed so you may wake up early enough to see the nurse." The girl hurriedly got back up to her feet, dusting off the back of her pants and shaking her hair before offering Jean her hand.

The young man stared at it and then back up at the girl. There was no way she could hoist him up –

"I swear I won't let you fall." The girl beamed.

"Okay," he mumbled, grasping on to her hand and lifting himself off of the floor with her aid.

Sasha escorted him back to the dorms, and much to Jean's chagrin, had made a huge deal about making sure that he was settled nicely, that his leg was propped up just enough so that the blood flow wouldn't all go towards his swollen appendage, and that the guys knew to make sure that Jean didn't try and get ready for practice the next day. They all exchanged words, laughing at what had happened earlier at practice that day, Connie and Marco inquiring about her laps, and Jean in return huffed irritably, wondering when she would just leave. However, when she did, nobody said a word – not even loud-mouthed Jaeger. They all settled into their silence, lights dimming, and it was only when Jean closed his eyes he could have sworn he still smelled the stupid girl, gliding through the room.


End file.
